


Please Keep Me Warm

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Comfort Sex, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Sappy cuddling, Stark household before shit goes down, Winterfell, sansa pops her cherry, theon gets a tender moment for once, winter is coming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 07:42:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark has been having nightmares every night in the freezing winter of the North. Now that she's almost a woman, she's too embarrassed to confess the fears to her family, but she'd feel so much better cuddling in bed with Theon....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please Keep Me Warm

**Author's Note:**

> Note: This is my first fanfiction story ever! Please give constructive comments if you think there’s anything I could improve on for next time. Normally I'm into rougher stuff than this, but I wanted a tender moment for Theon, given everything he goes through later. Thanks for reading, and enjoy!

Theon blearily forced his eyes open when the sharp knocks at his door jolted him from his sleep. He’d only been in bed for an hour or two, after sneaking back from a delightful midnight forest adventure with Ros, but the rest of the Winterfell castle had been in slumber for far longer. But it couldn’t be morning already, could it? Blackness still lurked beyond the window, and the fierce snowstorm that marked Winterfell’s late nights still howled outside. 

He turned over and pulled the covers over his head, but the knocks came again. 

“Go away, fuckers!” he snapped with annoyance. The only people who’d pound on his door at this hour were Robb and Jon, but they both knew of his sordid plans with Ros (how could anyone be dense enough to forget, after all the smug bragging he’d done?), and they both knew that he had to be up far too early the next morning for his swordsmanship practice. He was used to his two brothers—the word flashed through his mind with a wistful pang—messing with him, but didn’t they know that the Heir of Pyke deserved his sleep?

This time, when the knocks came, he shot up out of bed, ready for a fistfight with whichever of the damn bastards wouldn’t leave him be. But as his feet hit the floor, he realized that it couldn’t be either Robb or Jon. They would just bust the door open, or at least bang more violently against the wood. These knocks were rapid, small, timid. A girl?

Theon sat back down against the bed, wrapping the top blanket around himself. He had fallen asleep with his breeches on, but somehow still felt too exposed, especially without knowing who waited on the other side.

“Come in,” he called out. His voice was a mixture of curiosity and nervousness. He could never forget his status as a hostage, after all, and realized he could never let himself get too comfortable here.

The door creaked slowly open. The figure who stood in the doorway was slender and shivering, dressed in a thin white slip. Nervous blue eyes darted down to the floor. Long red hair hung down around her, swaying in the cold wind that gusted in through the window.

Theon swallowed. “Sansa?”

“I…I’m sorry for bothering you,” she stammered quietly. “It’s just, I…I’ve been having nightmares. Really bad nightmares, for the past few weeks. They won’t go away.” Her voice wavered a little bit as she continued. “I can’t tell my parents or older brothers because I’m too old to get scared at night. It’s embarrassing. But…could I please stay in here with you? I can’t fall asleep on my own in there all by myself, in the dark.”

Theon studied her as dozens of thoughts swirled through his head at once. Of course he’d never particularly seen Sansa as tough—she was a girl, after all, and not the same kind as her little sister. But at the same time, he’d never seen her so small and frightened like this. Goosebumps had broken out along her slender arms, which she kept wrapped around herself protectively. Theon remembered the gusts of winter wind that blew through his thin curtain, and realized Sansa must be freezing.

“Sure,” he said. “Here, you must be cold.” He moved toward further toward one side of the bed to give Sansa plenty of room on the other side, holding the blanket up. Sansa edged toward the bed and slipped under the covers. The heavy wooden door swung slowly shut behind her. When it clicked, the room became completely blanketed by heavy darkness. Somewhere outside, a wolf howled.

Even with a few inches of space between them, Theon felt the blanket tremble with Sansa’s shaking. He felt bad for her, but he realized with puzzlement that it wasn’t the same feeling as when he’d comforted a scared Rickon last week. Yes, Sansa was younger than him, and was the little sister of his best friends, but…she wasn’t quite as young as she used to be. He remembered how, on her last nameday, Lady Catelyn had smiled and called her a woman.

The gap between them narrowed as Sansa edged closer, snuggling against his body heat. Theon instinctively put a hand around her shoulders, squeezing her in a protective gesture. But as soon as he did, Sansa grabbed his arm and moved it downward, so that his arm wrapped her tightly around the waist. 

His heart pounded like a quickly-approaching war drum. Beneath his arm, Sansa’s body warmed quickly. Her flesh felt soft under the thin—he hadn’t realized it was THAT thin—material of the slip. His fingers were cupped gently around Sansa’s midsection, mere inches away from the firm rise of her thin hips, and he realized with horror that he was growing hard as iron beneath his breeches. He inched away so she wouldn’t notice, still keeping his arm in place.

“Theon?” she asked. Her voice was tiny, like she was afraid to even talk out loud.

“Yes?”

“I’m…I’m scared for my family.”

He moved his hand back up to her shoulder, stroking it gently. “Why? There’s nothing to be afraid of. We’re all okay. Your parents, Robb, Jon, Arya, Rickon, Bran. Everyone’s in bed, everyone’s fine.” He tried to keep his voice measured and calm, reassuring. “The maester and septa and all the servants are all safe, too.”

“But…there’s so much going on, now. Bad things are coming soon, Theon!” her voice wobbled again, and Theon froze, worried she had started to cry. He squeezed her shoulder more tightly. “I’m just scared that we’ll get taken over. I have nightmares every night about Dad and Mom and Robb getting murdered, and the little kids being driven far away all alone, and me being forced to marry some hideous abusive lout…times are going to turn dark, Theon. I can sense it.”

“Shhh,” he whispered gently. “They were only dreams. Do you really think your dad and Robb and Jon would just sit there and let that happen? Or me?”

At the last part, she snuggled against him, nuzzling her head into the place where his shoulder met his neck. She wrapped a mostly-bare leg over Theon’s, barely missing the iron rod that had risen between them.

“I know. I know you’d never let anything like that happen to me. Thank you for letting me stay here. I feel so much safer with you.”

Theon stroked her hair in response, enjoying the feel of the silky red locks. As he held her, her tears and shivering stopped, and her breath became slower and more even. Long minutes passed, and he thought the girl had fallen asleep. But then she spoke up again.

“Theon?” Sansa still sounded hesitant and tentative, like before, and there was still a trace of fear. But not the nightmare fears from before. He could tell something else had been on her mind.

“Yes?”

“Mother said I’m almost a grown woman now. I know someday I’ll have to wed, and I’ve been thinking about, well…well, about the things that married men and women do.”

Theon subtly tucked a thick blanket between Sansa and his lap. “Yes? What about them?”

“Well, I was talking to Jeyne and some other girls, and…I didn’t realize that the first time would hurt, so bad!”  
Theon waited, his heart pounding. How was he supposed to answer something like that?”

“You’ve been with plenty of girls, Theon. It’s all right, you don’t have to lie—everyone knows you have.”

He swallowed, his breath growing heavier. “I…I won’t try to lie, my lady.” He’d added the title in jest, halfway to comfort her and halfway to lighten the mood. But with her thinly-covered breasts pressing against his bare chest, he couldn’t ignore her lady status with much ease. 

“How badly does it hurt?”

He thought back to the time he’d taken a virgin. She’d been a farmer’s daughter, and he’d taken her outside, among the weirwood trees in the gentle twilight of the forest. There had been brief discomfort, but not too much. He’d tried to make it as pleasant as possible—after all, if the girl found him cruel, she’d never come back for more.

“Not too much,” he told her, he thought truthfully. “Not too much at all, and not for long, as long as the man is gentle.”

Sansa swallowed. He felt the lump in her neck slide along his own skin. He could tell she was still afraid, so he stroked her shoulder again.

“Would you be gentle with me, Theon?”

“Of course I would,” he said, squeezing her a little tighter. “I’ve grown up with you. You know I’d never, ever hurt you. And,” he added, “I’ll never let your husband someday hurt you, either. If he even tries, come and get me, and I’ll smash his teeth in with a brick.”

Sansa moved to wrap both her arms tightly around Theon. The warmth of her tight body enveloped him. Unfamiliar with such intimacy, Theon awkwardly held her too. Emotions he didn’t recognize fogged his brain. He had fucked dozens of girls, if not hundreds, but none of them had wanted to be close to him like this. They’d either barely consented—only fucking him out of a begrudged sense of defeat—or had awkwardly faced away from him, keeping their eyes away out of the shame of giving in to uncivilized urges. He’d had physical contact in the sense of rough-and-tumble fights with Robb and Jon, but that was nowhere near the same level as this.

“Theon, I trust you,” she confided, running a smooth finger along his face, starting by stroking his hair and then moving down to caress his eyelids, his nose, his lips. “I don’t know what my bedding night will be like, and I’d feel less afraid if I had…well…could you take care of the first time, for me? I know you’ll be kind, and you won’t let me be in any pain.”

Theon lay back stunned. 

“But what about nature? You can’t become with child, not now, that would—”

“It’s all right, I have moon tea. Osha the wildling showed me what herbs to use to keep a babe from getting into my womb.”

“But your future husband, he’ll know you’ve been taken—”

“Not if I don’t tell him. Lots of girls lose their virgin blood from falling off a horse, or from sitting the wrong way on a tree branch. Jeyne told me.”

Theon sighed. He knew something about this wasn’t quite right, but he couldn’t avoid thinking about Sansa’s budding hips and small, firm breasts. The nipples, now hardened, pressed against his chest through her slip. He imagined what it would be like to grab her and mount her, slowly at first, then rising in speed before he moved her on top of him to examine her body with his hands as she rode. 

“Sansa, are you sure…are you sure that this is what you want?”

In response, she grasped both his hands, pulling them toward her and underneath her slip. She wore no smallclothes underneath. Theon felt himself throb down there as he moved his hands up, along her soft but flat stomach and slender sides and up to her breasts. The slip traveled upward with his hands, and he pulled it above her head in one swift motion. Sansa moved the blankets back, allowing Theon to embrace her now fully-naked form. He gathered the pillows together in a high pile and eased Sansa down onto them before positioning himself above her and stripping off his breeches.

“Are you ready?” 

“Y—Yes. Please.” Her breathing had gotten heavier and had turned to low, eager moans. Theon used his fingers to trace the slippery entrance between her legs. At the touch, Sansa quivered and moaned louder. She tensed, and her hips bucked upwards. Theon grabbed his dripping member and eased it slowly inside her. Sansa’s heat gripped it tightly, causing him to break out into a grin as he pushed himself inside her deeper. She gasped, but he moved slowly, so slow that she didn’t even bleed or cry out. Soon he was all the way inside.

“Are you feeling all right?”

She wrapped her long legs around him, bucking her hips up even closer to his body. He slid himself mostly back out, then in again, still taking it slow. But soon, her legs pulled against him, the motions aggressive. She wanted him. He upped the pace, fucking her with deep, fast thrusts as her moans got lower and her breathing faster. Theon had to still himself: there were so many more positions he wanted to assume, so many more ways he wanted to hold her before it was over. But a spasm lurched through his body, warning him. He had to be careful. 

“Oh, Theon,” she whispered, licking his neck and gently biting his earlobe before exploring the rest of his ear with her tongue. “I don’t care what my father says about the Greyjoys; to me, you belong here more than anyone else. I want to be yours.” And she held him, more tightly and with more love than anyone else had held him in his life.

It sent him over the edge. He shook from more than just the cold, holding Sansa against him, protectively, as tightly as he could. She tossed her slip over the edge of the bed and snuggled against him, nuzzling her head back onto his shoulder. 

For the first time in a long time, they both slept well.


End file.
